tallhorseman
Well-known member
Four times in the past I’ve had cops want to search my gear. I always refuse because I venomously oppose unwarranted searches…and I’m usually carrying some grass with me. Now let’s clarify something here. An unwarranted search is not being searched without the paperwork from a judge. An unwarranted search is any search, judges’ permission or not, when the cop didn’t have a good reason to search you. Like a strong, distinct smell of Sativa, emanating from your pack, or a witness claiming that you are carrying a weapon.
The first time a cop asked for permission to search my gear was in the late eighties in College Park, GA. When I told the cop what I thought of unwarranted searches, he actually apologized, told me that he agreed, and let me go.
It didn’t happen again until after 2000, and this time the cop wasn’t nearly as cooperative. Somewhere in the nineties our government began to deemphasize “Protect and Serve” and emphasize “Be business-like in your pursuit of possible reasons to fine anyone possible” So this one called for back-up, hand-cuffed me, sat me in his patrol car, told me he was going to get a warrant, etc., etc,
This is pretty much standard operating procedure these days.
They hand-cuff you to solidify the illusion that you are not in control (It’s a mind game that a psychologist came up with. Police departments role-play these scenarios like they’re kinky sexual experiences).
They then tell you that if you have something illegal that it would BENEFIT you to cooperate because if you do the officer will speak on your behalf when you INEVITABLY go to court (Which is a Lie because a police officer has almost no influence over a district attorney, and a DA’s job depends on convictions, not lenience).
They then tell you that they are going to the other car to procure a warrant or a drug dog (Which is usually a Lie because judges are usually busy and lazy, and don’t like extra paperwork, and most police departments don’t have K-9 dogs, although most have cars marked K-9 for intimidation sake).
Then they leave you to sweat while they go chat with the other cop. Then after about thirty minutes…or how ever long it takes them to circle-jerk each another, they come tell you that the warrant/dog is in route. (Which is almost always another lie) and that they will give you ONE MORE CHANCE to be cooperative. It’s Police Trickery 101.
Several things can happen next. Many dumb-asses relinquish their rights and submit to a search. This is the wrong thing to do whether you have anything questionable in your pack or not. If you DON’T have anything questionable in your pack, it’s going to be REALLY rewarding to watch a cop waste an hour of his time for nothing, and then with a red face and blood vessels poking out of his forehead have to let you go on your merry way. If you ARE in possession of something illegal, you might as well make the asshole work for it.
In December I was stopped again…the fourth time. It was aggravating, and I didn’t want to fool with the cop, but I had no choice, so I decided I was going to step my game up.
It started off textbook.
“What do you carry in there?”
“Oh, I just carry camping gear.”
“Any weapons or drugs?”
“No.” I was lying on both counts.
“Do you mind if I look around in there?”
Once again, I couldn’t do it. But I didn’t want to go through the same routine. So I said to the cop, “Let me ask you something, if I agree to let you search my pack in return for a ride to the county line, would that be considered bribery?”
He laughed, “I don’t think so, but I’m not giving you a ride”.
“What about a cheeseburger and a soda, I’m sort of hungry. I’ll let you search my stuff if you’ll hook me up with a cheeseburger and a soda”.
The dude looked at me like I had lost my mind, “You’re kiddin, right?”
“No, I figure since unwarranted searches are illegal, but I don’t have anything to hide, we could compromise. You help me out with a ride, or a meal, and I’ll let you satisfy your curiosity”.
To shorten the story, the cop gave me the ride. We talked about football, deer hunting, etc. I thickened my southern accent to sound more like a good-ole-boy. When we got to the county line, I thanked him, retrieved my pack from the back seat, said goodbye and thanks, and started walking again. He didn’t say another word about searching it.
And if he had, I would have still made him get a warrant. Nothing had changed.
So, thank you sheriffs dept. for transporting me, my pack, and fourteen grams of primo eight miles to the next county.
Let's do it again sometime.:fuckoff:
The first time a cop asked for permission to search my gear was in the late eighties in College Park, GA. When I told the cop what I thought of unwarranted searches, he actually apologized, told me that he agreed, and let me go.
It didn’t happen again until after 2000, and this time the cop wasn’t nearly as cooperative. Somewhere in the nineties our government began to deemphasize “Protect and Serve” and emphasize “Be business-like in your pursuit of possible reasons to fine anyone possible” So this one called for back-up, hand-cuffed me, sat me in his patrol car, told me he was going to get a warrant, etc., etc,
This is pretty much standard operating procedure these days.
They hand-cuff you to solidify the illusion that you are not in control (It’s a mind game that a psychologist came up with. Police departments role-play these scenarios like they’re kinky sexual experiences).
They then tell you that if you have something illegal that it would BENEFIT you to cooperate because if you do the officer will speak on your behalf when you INEVITABLY go to court (Which is a Lie because a police officer has almost no influence over a district attorney, and a DA’s job depends on convictions, not lenience).
They then tell you that they are going to the other car to procure a warrant or a drug dog (Which is usually a Lie because judges are usually busy and lazy, and don’t like extra paperwork, and most police departments don’t have K-9 dogs, although most have cars marked K-9 for intimidation sake).
Then they leave you to sweat while they go chat with the other cop. Then after about thirty minutes…or how ever long it takes them to circle-jerk each another, they come tell you that the warrant/dog is in route. (Which is almost always another lie) and that they will give you ONE MORE CHANCE to be cooperative. It’s Police Trickery 101.
Several things can happen next. Many dumb-asses relinquish their rights and submit to a search. This is the wrong thing to do whether you have anything questionable in your pack or not. If you DON’T have anything questionable in your pack, it’s going to be REALLY rewarding to watch a cop waste an hour of his time for nothing, and then with a red face and blood vessels poking out of his forehead have to let you go on your merry way. If you ARE in possession of something illegal, you might as well make the asshole work for it.
In December I was stopped again…the fourth time. It was aggravating, and I didn’t want to fool with the cop, but I had no choice, so I decided I was going to step my game up.
It started off textbook.
“What do you carry in there?”
“Oh, I just carry camping gear.”
“Any weapons or drugs?”
“No.” I was lying on both counts.
“Do you mind if I look around in there?”
Once again, I couldn’t do it. But I didn’t want to go through the same routine. So I said to the cop, “Let me ask you something, if I agree to let you search my pack in return for a ride to the county line, would that be considered bribery?”
He laughed, “I don’t think so, but I’m not giving you a ride”.
“What about a cheeseburger and a soda, I’m sort of hungry. I’ll let you search my stuff if you’ll hook me up with a cheeseburger and a soda”.
The dude looked at me like I had lost my mind, “You’re kiddin, right?”
“No, I figure since unwarranted searches are illegal, but I don’t have anything to hide, we could compromise. You help me out with a ride, or a meal, and I’ll let you satisfy your curiosity”.
To shorten the story, the cop gave me the ride. We talked about football, deer hunting, etc. I thickened my southern accent to sound more like a good-ole-boy. When we got to the county line, I thanked him, retrieved my pack from the back seat, said goodbye and thanks, and started walking again. He didn’t say another word about searching it.
And if he had, I would have still made him get a warrant. Nothing had changed.
So, thank you sheriffs dept. for transporting me, my pack, and fourteen grams of primo eight miles to the next county.
Let's do it again sometime.:fuckoff:
